Cell
by SophieRomanoff
Summary: 'Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call.' My take on the events after Clint spares Natasha's life in Russia. Shield put her in a cell, and Clint surprises them all. "What do you think, Sir? Did Barton make the right call?" "He did. That woman is going to fit in very well around here." Day 3 of the 31 prompts challenge. Enjoy!


Hey everyone! Welcome to the third instalment of 'I missed October so I'm doing whumptober in December'. This one is set just after Clint 'makes a different call'

I should've said before that all of these are one-shots and you don't have to read all of them to understand. So without further ado, enjoy today's word which is cell.

CELL

When Clint swaggered into Shield with a dejected and broken looking Russian woman, the personnel at the front desk were sent into a panic.

They'd all heard of the infamous Russian assassin known only as The Darkness, and they all thought the woman had come to Shield to kill them.

Clint fought like hell to protect her, to try and convince them that she was with him, that she wasn't a threat. He demanded that he talk to Nick Fury, or Agent Coulson at least. But all the agents did was page Clint's handler and escort the red haired woman to the holding cells. They locked her in and closed the shutter, convinced they had done well, that they had saved Shield.

The woman hadn't fought, hadn't lifted a finger to hurt any of them. She simply sat down on the small camp bed, her knees drawn to her chest and her face buried against the material of Clint's sweatpants (he'd insisted she take them, that her leather pants were far too uncomfortable for the trip back to America).

The woman rocked herself slowly, muttering in Russian. She thought she had made the wrong decision. That she had traded her life away to this American group. That she would be locked up until she died. Or she'd be taken somewhere and tortured for information.

She thought her life was over before she had even had the chance to have it begin.

Outside the cells, Clint was waiting, watching the woman on one of the screens. They had at least five cameras pointed at her. Like she was on a TV show, it was sickening.

When Phil met him down at the holding area, Clint was ready. He came at Coulson, gesticulating wildly at the screens. "She's here of her own damn free will, Coulson. She CHOSE to come here, she chose to risk everything! She could have killed me. She had the drop on me, I swear, and yet she didn't. She barely even hurt me!"

Coulson stayed quiet, pursing his lips. "Be that as it may, Clint, you brought back a dangerous assassin. An assassin that you were tasked with killing." He said quietly, calm in the face of Clint's anger.

"She's not going to hurt anyone! Your file was wrong, Phil. She doesn't kill for money, she doesn't kill anyone who doesn't deserve it! I found her in the middle of planning a rescue mission for girls sold into sex slavery for gods sake." Clint pushed his hand through his hair, swallowing back the bile in his throat. "She was saving girls, Phil, and you would have had me kill her. Make a spectacle out of her and for what? The glory of killing an assassin? You were wrong." He growled lowly.

"She saw me coming from a mile off. She knew I was following her. She had opportunity upon opportunity to kill me." Clint shook his head. "And do you know what she did when I came up behind her with my bow? She dropped her gun and she got on her knees in front of me." He was breathing heavily now. He knew he had made the right choice. He had been watching her for weeks. Not only was she an incredible fighter, a force to be reckoned with. She was kind. She gave homeless people on the street her food. She left bowls of milk around the town for the stray cats. She was not evil. She had just been raised somewhere horrible.

"I understand that, Clint. I trust you but I also know bits of what happened to her. The Red Room don't mess around. They brainwash, torture. The girls kill each other before they're ten years old. I may trust you but do I trust her? Around hundreds of Shield personnel? No, I do not." Coulson said quietly. "I'm sorry, Clint, but until Shield psych interviews and clears her, she's not leaving that room."

"Room? Room?! It's a jail cell, Coulson, don't act like it isn't." He spat.

"Clint, she's not getting out of there any time soon. I suggest you go clean up and get some rest." He turned to examine the screens, indicating that their conversation was done.

Clint growled and kicked the nearest thing, a waste basket, across the floor before storming off.

Back in the jail cell, the red haired woman looked up at the ceiling at the sound of clattering. Frowning, she looked back at her hands. She must have been imagining it.

Suddenly, the sounds got louder and she felt a draft from the ceiling. A sandy haired head poked out and a grin met her disbelief.

"Hey, Nat. Fancy a walk?" Clint smiled, holding his hand down. Clint had noticed how she flinched at her given name 'Natalia', she had seemed a lot more comfortable just being called Nat.

"I'm a little locked up here." She quirked, unable to stop her lips pulling back in a small smile.

"I see that. That's why we're going through the vents. Better hurry up and make up your mind. Shield is gonna come crashing through those doors in approximately fifteen seconds."

The woman pursed her lips and nodded, stepping up onto the bed and taking his outstretched hand. He easily lifted her up and hastily replaced the coverings, just as the sound of shouting and crashing reached them from below.

"What are you doing, Hawk?" She asked quietly as she followed him through the vents.

"I didn't like the thought of you being locked up there." He shrugged, rounding the corner.

"It was pointless. They will find us and I will be back in that room in no time." She sighed. "I should have expected to be put away. After everything I've done."

In the cramped space, Clint looked back at her. "Nat, listen to me. They wouldn't let me see you and I need you to know some things before they find us." He murmured, crouching low and listening to the sounds below. "Empty." He grinned, working on getting the cover open before dropping through. He reached up and the woman climbed down and dropped beside him.

"Spend a lot of time in the vents?" She quipped, dusting off her shoulders.

"Eh, I guess. It's quiet up there, no one tends to ever follow me so I can be alone. IT's great for spying on people and besides, I like to be high up." He shrugged, reaching into his pocket and holding out a slightly melted chocolate bar.

The woman blinked and accepted it, shyly peeling back the corner and biting off a little.

"It's…delicious." She marvelled, eyes slightly wider.

"Yeah, it's good right?" Clint grinned, biting into his own.

The woman nodded and carefully put it into her pocket, savouring the taste on her tongue.

"Russian chocolate leaves a lot to be desired. Not that I had it very often." She shrugged and leaned back against the wall.

"I probably will not have much more of it if I am to spend my life in a cell." She murmured, eyes on the floor.

"Nat," Clint stepped forward, tilting her chin up with his finger.

The woman sighed and forced her gaze to his. "What?"

"I promise you, you will not spend your life behind there. I'll do everything I cn to get the whole thing pushed ahead. You'll see." He said firmly.

Unsure what to say, the woman just nodded.

"It seems impossible, I know. I'm not asking you to trust Shield, or anyone else, I'm just asking you to try and trust me."

"You spared my life." She said, voice husky. "I'm sure I can find it in myself to try and trust you."

"Good!" Clint grinned, dropping his hand and stepping back. They stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before she next spoke.

"Why Nat?" She asked softly, tilting her head.

Clint momentarily marvelled at the beauty of her rich Russian accent. Her English was almost impeccable.

"Because…I saw how you reacted when I called you, Natalia. We have a penchant for using nicknames in America." Clint grinned ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. "If you don't like it!"

"No, no, I like it. It's just…my name is Natalia, I won't ever be able to escape it." She frowned.

"Nat isn't just short for that. There's Natalie, Natasha…actually, I think that's about it." He shrugged. "But if you decide to stay, you could change your name. It's easy enough. My full name is Clinton but no one but my mama and my brother called me that, so I shortened it." He said quietly.

"I…I like Natasha. It's…a good Russian name but not too close to my birth name." She said softly, flushing slightly.

"Then welcome to Shield, Natasha. Though, Nat is a cute nickname, so I'm not gonna stop calling you that." He grinned.

"Now, ready to leave? Remember what I promised, the cell is only temporary." He said, serious.

Natasha nodded and took the hand he offered.

Flicking the lock on the door, he tugged her out. Immediately, they were met with Shield officers and Clint held her behind him.

"I did offer a walk, or rather in this instance, may I suggest a run?" He smirked.

"A run would be fantastic." She hummed and Clint immediately took off running down the hallways.

Natasha grinned and burst out laughing, the sound music to Clint's ears.

They both knew they would be stopped soon enough, but Natasha did not mind. In that moment, Natasha Romanov was free.

….

Agent Hill stepped up besides Coulson as they watched the pair run from their agents.

"What do you think, Sir? Did Barton make the right call?" Maria asked quietly.

Phil's lips pulled back in a rare smile.

"He did. That woman is going to fit in very well around here."


End file.
